Like how he still felt like a fraud. Even after all these years.
“Such a shame,” she finally said, her voice husky, and dare he think it, sexy. “I thought you were a man who valued family. You aren’t married?”
He bristled like a dodgy old man. “My personal life is none of your business.”
“Which means you aren’t. You probably don’t have a girlfriend either.” She laughed but it rang false. “Short of getting on my knees and begging, I don’t know how else to plead my case.”
The image her words conjured was disturbingly arousing. The lushly beautiful Anastasia Renaldi on her knees, in the most prime location possible, begging him for…whatever he wanted.
He broke out in a cold sweat just thinking about it.
“Begging won’t be necessary,” he said rather abruptly, pissed at himself for even thinking of this woman pleading with him in that soft, slightly accented voice, her lush mouth poised and ready, hovering just above his…
“What a shame.” Her smile was one of a temptress. He knew in an instant she was trouble for both his mind and his libido. “Well, I thank you for your time.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be of any assistance.” The lie fell easily from his lips. Taking her on as a client would’ve been a disaster. He wasn’t one of those lawyers who had secret relationships with their clients, and he’d heard of plenty of them. He’d always taken the high road, done the right thing, had prided himself on his reputation and how he appeared to both his peers and to his clients.
Working with Stasia Renaldi would’ve been detrimental to his reputation. He knew this without a doubt.
“It was a pleasure meeting you.” She put extra emphasis on the word pleasure. Either she was trying to flirt with him or it came naturally.
“You as well, Miss Renaldi.” He held the office door open for her and she paused, her gaze meeting his, her lips slightly pursed as she contemplated him.
“Perhaps we’ll run into each other in the future.”
Probably not, but he wasn’t about to argue with her. “Perhaps we will.”
“I look forward to seeing you again.” With a flashing smile, she strode away, his gaze falling to her gently swaying hips, the subtle shift of her backside as she headed toward the elevator on the opposite side of the room.
“What did she want?” His assistant’s snide voice broke through his lusty thoughts, and he glared at her, astounded at her impertinence.
“None of your damn business,” he growled before he went into his office, slamming the door behind him.
He’d call HR and have her terminated by the end of the day. And then immediately go in search of a male assistant.
Women. They would be the death of him.
Stasia fled the building as fast as she could, her nerves shattered from her encounter with Gavin Westmore.
He’d disapproved from the moment he set eyes on her. The disdainful expression on his too-handsome face, and the glasses he wore, couldn’t hide the lethal coldness glittering in his green eyes. And the sneer in his voice, the finality of his immediate rejection…all of it hurt.
And made her angry.
Determination filling her, she hurried down the sidewalk, not bothering to flag down a taxi. She needed to let off some steam, ponder what her next move needed to be.
Pompous ass wouldn’t get her a quick meeting with the Worths. Oh, she’d met them before, but under totally different circumstances. Various fashion industry get-togethers throughout the years, where a person said a quick hi over cocktails and appetizers. She’d confronted Rhett Worth a few weeks ago at the Worth perfume launch, but his sweet girlfriend had sent her packing.
Lawyers loved money. They lived for it. She’d been perfectly willing to supply that asshole whatever outrageous fees he might’ve charged her and he still turned her down.
It made no sense. Her reaction to him made no sense either. She’d never been turned by a pretty face before. Her three brothers were all darkly handsome men. Working in the fashion industry, everyone was beautiful. So why such an immediate attraction to a man who looked at her as if she were a disgusting bug he’d just squashed under his shoe?
She stopped in front of a store window, stared at the display of lovely jewelry laid out. It was simply designed. Delicate hammered gold shapes dangling from thin chains, whimsical curlicues and basic circles, the kind of jewelry she’d loved to design for Renaldi Accessories. She’d finally been ready to make the next step, to become a full-fledged designer for the family company, when her father died.
And now she couldn’t work for them, couldn’t be a part of the company she so passionately threw herself into from the time she was thirteen, a silly little teenaged girl working at her family’s company. Her father had indulged her completely, loving how she flourished.
He’d taken it all away from her with a few rudely chosen words in his will. No longer with them so she couldn’t yell at him, curse him. Tell him what a cruel, terrible man he was, for taking away her birthright.
But it was a birthright that hadn’t belonged to her in the first place. She wasn’t a Renaldi. She was a Worth. Ostracized by both families, she didn’t belong anywhere.
Fighting the tears that threatened to spill, she blinked hard, turned away from the window to stare at the busy street before her. Crowds of impatient New Yorkers pushed past her, jostling her as they walked by and she fought through the crowd, stopping on the edge of the dirty sidewalk so she could wave down a cab. She hated New York, much preferred the peacefulness of Italy, specifically the Renaldi family compound where she had spent much of her childhood.
She’d been sheltered, the youngest of her mother’s children and the only girl. Protected by her bossy big brothers, coddled by the man who raised her, instilled with the belief she could do anything, be whatever she wanted to be.
And now she stood alone, feeling isolated, while her true family was in Italy. Her brothers wanted to help, were doing their best, but they were stuck. Besides, they had their own lives to live. All three of them were busy running Renaldi Accessories. Matteo was married and had a child, Vincenzo was newly married as well and Rafe was consumed with his work. They had limited time to help their baby sister, and their father had ensured they would lose everything if they defied his wishes.
Her mother was holed up in the very place Claudia loved the most, refusing telephone calls, refusing to speak to anyone, even Stasia. That was the most frustrating part of it all, how selfish her mother was behaving.
What about her? What was she going to do with her life? No one would talk to her, though the industry was all abuzz talking about her. Waiting to see what move she might make next, they all expected her to go after the Worths and demand her rightful piece of the Worth family fortune.
No one realized she could care less about the money. She was looking for more information about the long-deceased Michael Worth, information about these three men who were her half-brothers. She was looking for a connection to something, to someone. Anyone.
She was looking for a family to cling to. And so far, she had nothing.
No one.
Chapter Three
The cocktail party was large, making it easier for Stasia to slip inside unnoticed. The restaurant was one of those typical chic Manhattan hotspots, with the latest in trendy food and expensive cocktails. Where everyone wanted to be spotted and the paparazzi lingered outside, hoping to get a shot of a famous celebrity.
She wasn’t a celebrity, but her story was well known enough to have hit all the major magazines, including a two-page spread in People. Not that the paparazzi necessarily cared about her. Thankfully, it was cold outside, easy for her to wrap a black cashmere scarf over her hair and keep her head averted as she walked by the front of the building toward the entrance.
The few photographers hanging around didn’t look at her twice.
A pretty hipster-type woman who looked barely legal and like she played in her mama’s make-up drawer
waited behind the hostess’ counter, a cool smile faintly curving her ruby red lips. “How may I help you?”
“I’m here for the Intermix party.” Stasia unwound the scarf from her head and stashed it in her satchel bag. Intermix was a well-known fashion public relations company and were having their annual bash to celebrate their clients.
“Ah, the event is located upstairs.” She waved a pale hand toward the stairwell to the right. “Someone will be taking names at the door, so do be prepared.”
Snobby little bitch, Stasia thought after she left the hostess without a thank-you, carefully taking her time as she walked up the stairs. The muffled sounds of the party reached her, indicating it was in full swing, and she wondered how the hell she would slip past the bouncer at the door.
Crashing parties wasn’t her style, but damn it, rumor was Rhett Worth and his perfumer girlfriend, Gabriella Durand, were going to be in attendance this evening. That she’d resorted to such desperate actions didn’t thrill her, but Stasia didn’t have a choice. She was tired of roadblocks constantly thrown in her face at every turn. She needed answers.
She had a feeling Rhett would be the easiest one to get them from, especially since they had already spoken once. He knew her plight, as did his girlfriend. Perhaps she could elicit sympathy from them.
Whatever it takes…
At the top of the stairs, she spotted the open double doors, the people mingling within. Most everyone clutched a cocktail in one hand, nearly all of them dressed in black. The room was filled with varying levels of conversation, and her head throbbed just thinking of making her way through the chattering throng.
Squaring her shoulders, she ignored her potential headache and approached the doors, her steps determined, her gaze averted just enough that she couldn’t make eye contact with the young woman holding a clipboard, a headset curled around her sleek, bright red hair.
“Excuse me, ma’am? I need to check your name against the list,” the woman said, her voice weak.
“I’m sorry, my boyfriend is waiting inside.” Stasia flashed an apologetic smile over her shoulder as she hurried toward the open doors. “I need to find him. I’m sure he’s mad at me for being so late.”
“But, ma’am, no one is allowed in unless they’re on the list.” The girl glanced around in obvious irritation before she started inside the room, following Stasia.
Shit. The girl was way too close to lose her, even in this crowd. Stasia was going to get kicked out. And even worse, people were already starting to notice the commotion.
“Your name, please?” The woman tapped Stasia on the shoulder and she had no choice but to turn around. Stasia found the short woman stopped just before her, clipboard poised and ready for her perusal.
Stasia parted her lips, her brain scrambling for some sort of lame excuse when strong, warm fingers curled around her upper arm, jerking her close to an equally strong, warm body. “She’s with me,” said a familiar deep voice.
Her arm tingled at the man’s possessive touch, even through the fabric of her sleeve. She glanced up, shock coursing through her despite knowing it was Gavin Westmore who’d somehow swooped in and saved her. He studied her like some sort of hawk contemplating his prey, his mouth firm, his green gaze blazing with ire.
“Uh…” The man’s nearness had robbed her of words, something that had never happened before.
“You’re on the list, right, sir?” The girl glanced at her precious piles of paper with an endless string of names.
“I am. Westmore is my last name.”
She flipped through the stapled papers, trailed her index finger down the last page, skimming her black painted nail across his name when she spotted it. “It doesn’t show you were bringing a guest. There’s no plus one here.” Her questioning gaze met Gavin’s with a mocking smile.
“It was a last-minute arrangement.” He slipped his arm around Stasia’s waist, drew her so close her body collided with his. “As she mentioned, she knew I would be upset if she didn’t show up.”
God, the nerve of the man. Holding her to him as if he owned her. His big hand settled on her hip, his touch seeming to brand her as his. She stiffened in his embrace, his grip tightening as if to dissuade her.
She beamed up at him, trying her best to ignore the buzz of electricity coursing through her. “I’m so sorry I’m late, honey. Work kept me extremely busy and I lost track of time.” She hoped she didn’t sound like she wanted to choke on her words.
His intense gaze met hers, his handsome face stoic, but his green eyes had gone wide. She smiled blissfully at him as if she hadn’t a care in the world. And she leaned her cheek against his shoulder for the briefest moment, cuddling him, for the love of God.
Not that he didn’t feel good. The fine fabric of his suit jacket rubbing her cheek, the spicy masculine scent of him, it all went straight to her head. Damn it.
Hopefully she was putting on a convincing show for the woman who watched them with shrewd eyes. For someone so small and who appeared so young, it looked like she’d been given a false story more than once.
“Hmm, well, I guess I’ll let you in.” The woman sniffed, whipping the wrinkled papers of her list back into place. “Next time, though, I advise you to leave your girlfriend’s name when you RSVP.”
“Noted.” Gavin nodded, his fingers caressing Stasia’s side. She barely restrained the shiver that moved through her. Hopefully he didn’t notice. “I appreciate you giving us no trouble.”
“Anytime.” She shot him a flirtatious look before she flounced away, her overly red hair swinging as she walked.
“Get your hands off me,” Stasia muttered the moment the woman was gone, trying her best to extract herself from his grip.
He tightened his arm around her, guiding her toward the bar nearby. “What the hell are you doing here?” he muttered out of the side of his mouth.
“What’s it matter to you? Not like I’m your client.” It still hurt, his rejection of her. No one had rejected her the first twenty-four years of her life and now all of a sudden it was all she dealt with.
“Well, at least I was invited, which I can’t say for you.”
She winced, hating that he was right, that he had the upper hand. And was clearly enjoying that fact too. “Just let me go so I can be on my merry way.”
“And what’s your purpose for crashing this party anyway, hmm? I’m surprised you’re not invited. I know Intermix has handled Renaldi advertising in the past.”
They stood in line for the bar, Stasia keeping her head down for fear of anyone recognizing her. She hadn’t thought of that, her only focus on getting into the party and getting to Rhett. “Since I’m not considered a part of Renaldi any longer, I wasn’t invited.”
“What about your brothers? They couldn’t get you in?” He sounded incredulous.
“Of course not.” She lifted her head, met his confused gaze. Didn’t he read the gossip mags? They were filled with Renaldi secrets, every last lurid detail. “They can hardly speak to me for fear of being disinherited like I was.”
He glanced around before he spoke again, his grip gentling on her though he didn’t let go. “That’s fucking ridiculous,” he muttered.
She laughed. The polished, indignant lawyer was angry. And she liked it. “Indeed it is. But they’re not here. They’re all in Italy at the moment. And Renaldi hasn’t used Intermix for over a year.”
“Hmm, but Worth uses Intermix.”
Whoops, he caught on. No surprise, the man was too smart for his own good. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She lifted her chin, extracted herself from his grip and stepped away from him.
Though she didn’t leave the line for the bar. She was desperate for a drink. Maybe it would calm her frazzled nerves.
“Don’t lie. You’re not very good at it.” He stepped closer, leaning into her so his mouth rested just above her ear. “I should toss your pretty little ass out of here.”
Was it wrong that she warmed at t
he compliment wrapped into the threat? “I’ll make a huge scene.”
He cocked a dark brow and she looked away. “Oh, really?”
Nodding, she kept her gaze focused on the very busy bartender mixing drinks at an incredible speed. “I’ll make like the bad girlfriend and call you all sorts of names.”
“I’ve been called every name in the book, sweetheart. You can’t shock me,” he drawled like the cocky ass that he most likely was.
She glared at him. “I’ll boldly declare that you’re a terrible lover.”
He shrugged. “It’s a lie, but go ahead.”
“I’ll scream you have a tiny dick too.” She smirked when his gaze hardened. “Oh, and I’ll also say that you come too fast for a girl to get her turn.”
“You gotta take it personal, hmm?”
“It’s the only way to shut you up,” she said gleefully, thankful when the people in front of her grabbed their drinks and left. She stepped up to the bar. “A glass of wine, please. A chardonnay.”
She could feel his gaze burning as he watched her, the waves of anger that vibrated off his rigid body. Well, good. He got to her, now she got to him. Seemed like a fair trade in her screwed up mind.
The cute bartender handed her the glass with a wink and a smile and she took it from him, dropping a dollar in the tip jar before she walked away. “Thanks.”
Gavin followed behind her, not bothering to grab a drink. “If you think I’m going to stand by and let you approach Rhett Worth without intervening, you’re sadly mistaken.”
“Why do you care?” She sipped from her glass, the cool liquid sliding down her throat.
“I don’t want you to disrupt the party or the Worth family.”
“If you didn’t want me to disrupt the family, then you should’ve taken me on as a client. You could’ve handled this entire situation the way you wanted to.” She smirked, though within nerves jangled.
“You were trying to bribe me so you could meet with them. That’s not how I would’ve done it.”
“Really?” She turned on him. “And how would you’ve done it?”
Worth Everything: Worth It, Book 4 Page 2
